


I Don't Want You to Leave will You Hold my Hand?

by FlirtyHale



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Ian's still in bed, Inner Struggle, M/M, Mickey being a careing boyfriend, after 4x12, hand holding, mickey dealing with all of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1446025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlirtyHale/pseuds/FlirtyHale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And now it was sunday again he had realized as he counted the days on his fingers. A two weeks had passed since Fiona had dropped the bomb on him of what was going on with his redhead.</p><p>14 days.</p><p>Fourteen lonely days of sitting at the table drinking till he was drunk and smoking till he started to cough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want You to Leave will You Hold my Hand?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was written on paper originally then i typed it out. Title is taken from Sam Smith's song Stay with me. It's good give it a listen.
> 
> Just to clarify
> 
> It's been 3 Weeks since Ian's been in bed and 2!! Weeks since Fiona told Mickey whats up. i just figure that in this case senerio one episode could cover 5-7 days of shit so yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

The house was quiet. Too quiet for it to even keep himself sane.

Usually there was always a noise. Yelling from his father or his brother snoring loudly.

Sometimes it was Mandy who was cursing at her new boyfriend, or muttering things about her old boyfriend, that older Gallagher kid, the one older than Ian.

Sometimes it was the bitch's baby crying up a storm, or one of the other whores babbling along in russian. Mickey still had no idea what the fuck any of them were saying and his wife was no help.

There could be a rumble from the furnace or the toilet running but the closest noise was a siren from a firetruck or ambulance about four blocks away.

So it was way too quiet and it bugged him a lot, he couldn't concentrate on anything except the door he'd been watching for days.

Days that passed and people began to leave. Svetlana moved away with her new girlfriend, well the other whores found some drug dealer boyfriend that would share them all.

Terry was still in jail where he fucking should be and his brothers and cousins haven't shown up once since the news spread of Mickey's lover that was comatose in the Milkovich house. That was all rumor though, spread amongst drunks and hookers.

Mandy even rarely came home now, she admitted she didn't feel like she belonged, that she was just overstepping her boundaries even though it was her house too. Mickey figured that she was probably staying at the Gallaghers with the older boy.

 

And now it was sunday again he had realized as he counted the days on his fingers. A two weeks had passed since Fiona had dropped the bomb on him of what was going on with his redhead.

14 days.

Fourteen lonely days of sitting at the table drinking till he was drunk and smoking till he started to cough.

The Gallagher clan began to drop by on various days, Fiona came the past two tuesdays and wednesdays when she wasn’t working or whatever the fuck. The youngest boy came by once with sad expressions.

"Where is he?" Was the first thing from his mouth when Mickey opened the door.

"Still in bed why?"

"Is he dying?"

"Don't fucking say things like that. Shithead" He spat.

"So if he's not dying then what's wrong with him?"

Mickey couldn't believe the nerve this kid had, fucking Gallaghers.

"Don't you got something to do, fuckin' steal dogs or robs banks n’shit?" But the kid just stared at him with a blank face.

"Jesus christ your brother is like your mom ups and downs he's not fucking dying."

"Whatever" the boy Carl? He guessed- said and bounced back down the stairs.

And never he never came back.

 

Although he remembers clearly when the younger girl showed up, It was Wednesday, earlier than before he expected Fiona. She was obviously coming home from school and stopped by.

She was nice, nicer than that brat kid he had at his door the day before thinking Ian was dying. Even the thought about the conversation made him want to punch a wall.

Mickey sat at the table he'd claimed as his own little safe haven. he was sipping on his third beer of the day. He could hear her chatting away about everyone else (Lip, Fiona, Liam, Carl, Matt, her friends, Shelia, Mandy,Sammy, Chuck even Frank's named popped up once) but never herself, never one peep about "i" or "me".

She was a good kid Mickey concluded as he continued listening to her--not that he was doing it purposely it was just boredom and this house echoes.

It was also just before she left that he remembers hearing her voice begin to crack, her sentences losing all power to speak. Clearly on the verge of tears from getting no response from her older brother.

She begged him to get out of bed, they could walk to the park and feed the new ducklings, or he come see V and Kev's new twins (He would fall in love with them the minute he saw them she promised), she then begged him to come home and feel the heat that was constantly running because Lip got money from his new friend or girlfriend ordeal.

Still all she got was silence which Mickey expected, the kid hasn't said a word in almost two weeks. Not even a get out or leave me alone when Mickey checked up on him.

She exited the bedroom, slowly closing the door leaving with red eyes and puffy cheeks. She stopped, turning to look at Mickey with roughly 3 feet between them. A gust of wind blew up against the house and it sent a spine chilling creak through the walls as if the building would collapse if it happened again. "You're taking good care of him right?" She said tentatively.

"I'm doing my best" he admitted and she walked out. Mickey even felt his own eyes water as he heard her cry harder from outside the door. The sound of a bottle smashing on the ground and her scream "Why him!" out into the dead street.

 

He told the girl he was doing his best to take care of her brother, who clearly has a lot of people who care for him and he'd been damned if he ended up fucking Ian up for them again.

So with the help of Fiona's long list of the shit Monica has tried to pull he hid and locked up anything that Ian could potentially hurt himself with.

Heblocked up all the weapons his gun collection, shavers from the bathroom, hammers, knives, tweezers and nail clippers all locked in the cupboard in the kitchen the handles held with a metal chain.

He put all the filled beer bottles in a cooler then hid them in the basement well he disposed of the empties quickly after drinking through them.

He got rid of pills from the bathroom and dug a hole in the backyard to hide his weed. The house was the safest it's ever been since the Milkoviches moved in.

He checked up on Ian when it felt necessary, he would open the window a few different times a day, check if he was still breathing, fill up the glass on the bedside table with water.

Most times he would go in and the glass would be empty. And that was something that made his day, pathetically enough for a Milkovich but not for the current situation.

He felt accomplished when he saw the glass half empty or even empty. Like he was doing a good job of getting through to the sick boy. Ian was drinking and that meant moving a bit to drink at least.

He sleeps on the couch at night, not wanting to over crowd and coddle the boy though he barely rests. His mind always worrying and shit. But one night he must've smoked one to many as he was going through packs, two days at a time, almost needing to actually run out to get more after not leaving the house for almost two weeks.

He passed out on the couch and when he came to he swears he heard the shower running, he doesn't remember getting up but remembers looking into the bedroom and Ian was definitely not in the bed.

He somehow made it back to the couch. And in the morning their bedroom did smell cleaner as well as Ian's hair smelled like his shampoo. It was soothing in a optimistic kind of way, things might be looking up. But that was mid-week, last week.

He never did go out and get more smokes.

 

Then there was today. Today he had to leave, he had to go pick up the cash from Kev before the well respected dickhead spent it or got it stolen. So he made sure Ian was asleep before he left.

Walking down the puddle filled streets as spring was closely approaching.He made it to the alibi in record time, the Russians whores still working upstairs and making a good profit.

He shrugged off his jacket feeling to damn hot and took a seat at the bar. Kev didn't say anything till he poured him a drink and slid Mickey his cut.

"How's he?"

Mickey shrugged shooting his shot back "good days bad days. Doesn't get up or speak."

Kev's face fell further into a frown "Freaking genetics man. I hope my kids get my charisma not my inability to make it above the poverty line." He cursed and went off to clean something.

Mickey sat there, the empty shot glass between his fingers and cash in his pocket. He told himself to leave to go back home and check up on the kid.

God he was so fucking worried about the kid  off-ing himself. The word “Suicidal” as Fiona warned flickered in his mind like a fast food chain sign blinking 24/7.

Finally having enough he took his phone out and called, asking the oldest Gallagher to go watch Ian as he had something to take care of. Lip agreed no questions asked.

So he stayed at the Alibi a little bit longer, free shots from Kev served with a sad smile. He didn't bring up Ian again which was good and bad.

But he got to listen in on new talk that he hasn't heard about in almost a month. It was something that he needed to do just to forget about the hurricane brewing back at his place.

He left after an hour, thinking that was enough time for Lip to see his brother aga- For the first time. He realized Lip is the only one who hasn't been over yet. A shitty feeling grew with in him as he walked back.

He entered into the house pulling his jacket off and threw it onto the couch. He could hear Lip's voice asking subtle questions like "feeling any better?" "want something to eat?" "something to drink?"

Mickey didn't hear an answer from the sick boy, not that he expected him to answer. So he just went about sitting back at his safe table.

Lip retreated back out from the bedroom, re-closing the door loosely. "Oh hey man didn't know you were back."

"Ya just did"

"Well he said he's hungry you got anything?"

Mickey's head shot up "he talked to you"

"Yeah I was just as surprised."

They rummaged around in the cupboards and found nearly expired bread and peanut butter and jam. It will have to do for now.

Lip started on making the sandwich for his little brother, well Mickey stood biting on his lip and staring at his reclaimed bedroom door.

"He's awake. Probably would like to see you." Lip said well digging peanut butter out of the jar. Mickey took a step forward but paused. Lip was here when Ian woke up, Ian woke up for him to see his brother and seeing Mickey was probably the last thing he wanted.

"Just go in. He's tired and weak, his mind is fucking with him but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel any different about you."

Mickey scoffed "he left cause I got hitched and I didn't care about his fuckin' feelings, I wouldn't be surprised if this bi-thing was 'cause of me!"

Lip turned and looked him from where he was standing at the counter, now spreading jam on the bread "I know it wasn’t because he woke up and thought I was you."

Mickey felt his body tension sag. Just melt away with those few words. Every worry that the redhead forgot about everything he and Mickey did just to always be in each other's lives, just melted away.

"If that doesn't convince you that he still thinks of you in the state he's in then I don't know what fucking will."

"You sure he said-"

"Fuck, yes" Lip said sounding irritated "your boyfriend fucking needs you."

His heart skipped a beat in his chest, the word boyfriend still foreign, odd and kinda scared him but the fact that Lip was telling him that Ian needed him was enough.

He was terrified though, he'd never experienced something like this barely heard of Bi-whatever until now. He walked to the door and pushed it open, the cloudy sky masked the amount of sunlight coming in but it was still pretty bright.

The floor boards seemed to creak louder every time he took a small step carefully around the bed. Watching as he rounded the bed, the redhead still covered under that same white  blanket meshing along with his skin tone.

His chest rose and fell with every breath. His face was still bruised well Mickey's was pretty much all gone, 'cept for a few scratches and a scar forming on his eyebrow.

He crouched down next to the bed to look at eye level with the half asleep boy. His head tucked neatly into one of the pillows, you would never think this kid was mentally ill.

It saddened Mickey now understanding why the little Gallagher girl had cried so hard when she left. He felt like he could too. This whole time, his stupid bullshit emotions always got the best of him but he never dared once to show them. Even if he was alone.

Ian's eyes fluttered open, his sub conscious knowing there was someone watching over him. "Mick?' He mumbled his voice coming out raspier than ever.

"Hey there mumbles." He said quietly, now resting his arms of the bed to steady himself. The boys face seemed to glow, his eyes brighter than the first Sunday this all started.

Mickey couldn't help himself but admire the sensation of the teenager in front of him. His eyes began to flutter shut again "Hey Lips making you something to eat probably don't want to miss that."

His Ian's re-opened a few seconds later, still sparkling in the minimal sunlight.

"Feeling any better?"

The redhead nodded once, Mickey didn't expect him to talk at all so this was a good start. He got tired of crouching and just sat on the dirty floor not knowing how long he was going to stay in here- mostly likely as long as Ian was willing to have him.

He kept his arms still crossed on the bed, able to rest his chin and be closer to the fragile boy without being completely on the bed.

"You look better" he commented, not knowing what else to do. "Hell, you always look better than me" He snorted. He was sure he seen Ian's mouth twitch, as if he was going to smile but forgot how too. Mickey sighed out loud "you know you're going to beat this right, tough guy."

"You are far from being like your mom, won't be a prick like your dad- whoever the fuck he is." He paused running his hand through his own hair.

"You're going to be a better person, a good dad one day, and a survivor of this bullshit. A role model to every new person diagnosed with this disease" saying it with a wicked bitter taste in his mouth. "So fuck what others say about you, fuck what doctors say, fuck what you tell yourself because I believe in you. I know this thing will be just a shitty bump in the road and added to our list of fights we had to crawl through to get where he wanted to be. Which will be me and you. Together, taking no ones shit got it?!"

He watched Ian's eyes glance over him, then he moved his hand from where it was resting under his head, and out to intertwine with Mickey's. Just holding and staring at each other, and for some odd reason this felt better than any sex or any kiss. Nothing could compare to this feeling.


End file.
